


We Were Gods

by lforevermore



Series: We Were Kings [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Tags to be added, crawling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lforevermore/pseuds/lforevermore
Summary: Snippets from the We Were Kings 'verse. Featuring various pairings and situations, in various time periods as our immortals live on. Most will be smutty.





	We Were Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of Satiated, a two-part RisingFreeWood fic.
> 
> If you have requests/ideas/comments for the We Were Kings 'verse, you can send them to me here or at inmywildernesswriting.tumblr.com!

They come after Gavin’s coronation, twenty or so Freemen who make the choice to stand behind their beloved Lord Free rather than a centuries-old ideal. They still bow only to Gavin - he is, and will always be, their only king, and they listen only to his orders. Geoff declares them the Creeper Guard, tasks them with recruiting and training others to fight against the Creeper threat growing in the East. Three of the Freemen, however, he names Gavin’s personal guard: Jon, the pretty rider who had revealed to them Gavin’s true identity, a wiry fighter named Meg, and a brilliant mage named Lindsay. 

(Magic was few and far between in their kingdom, and it would pay, Geoff and Gavin thought, to keep a mage close at hand.) 

His guard - his friends - don’t question the way that Gavin wears both golden crown and golden collar. They don’t gaze upon him in disdain when he is called away to another king’s chambers. Instead, Meg and Lindsay look after him with curiosity as he leaves, and Jon…

Jon looks  _ hungry _ . 

Gavin is not a blind man. He has the eyes of an archer, the limited wisdom gained from a century or so alive. He sees the way that Jon longs to follow, sees the curiosity that begs to be sated, sees the longing way that he looks at the kings and Gavin’s collar. He also sees the way that Jon’s gaze lingers over long on the Mad King in particular. 

And Gavin, though he has lied many times in the past, would tell this truth: he has thought about Jon in this manner before. The man is beautiful, with long dark hair and bright blue eyes. Before the kings, he had decided against laying with mortals, for a variety of personal reasons. Now, though, he thinks his own longing, his own want, may be too strong for those reasons to come into play. 

He watches the way that Jon watches Ryan, and wonders. Would Jon learn to bow to Ryan in private? Or would he refuse even there? Gavin isn’t at all used to giving orders - doesn’t really want to, if he’s honest - but he thinks that Ryan could teach Jon how to please his Lord. 

Gavin thinks on it, weighs their opposite states of mortality and comes up with the idea that Jon’s life is fleeting, and Jon knows their truth, and Gavin is not the one who gets to decide what Jon wants and doesn’t want. He will offer, he decides, if Ryan agrees, and Jon will have the final decision. 

 

“You’re thinking deeply.” Ryan’s voice is a murmur in Gavin’s ear, low and heated, and it draws Gavin from his thoughts with a shiver down his spine. “You’re distracted from me tonight, little bird.” His hand strokes heavily along the line of Gavin’s hip and thigh, as though to bring his attention back to Ryan.

“My apologies,” Gavin murmurs, and presses himself back to feel the delicious growing hardness of Ryan against his lower back. 

“What is distracting you so, love?” Ryan kisses the shell of Gavin’s ear, and makes no move to further entice Gavin into their usual activities at this time. Gavin knows that he won’t be swayed from getting an answer, so he supposes it’s time to confess his recent thoughts.

“I have an idea,” he says, hesitantly, and Ryan pauses, waiting for Gavin to go on. “What do you… What do you think of Jon?”

Silence follows his question. It stretches on so long that Gavin shifts to face Ryan, concerned that he may have somehow offended his king. Ryan, however, is watching Gavin, an expression that Gavin’s never seen before on his face. 

“My bird,” Ryan begins, and his voice is slightly hoarse. “There is no other on this plane that can take your place in my bed and in my heart. If I have been…  _ forward _ , if I have been overly friendly, if my gaze has seemed to stray over much, I assure you that it is only in my head that I think of him, and I would never,  _ never _ act on it. I am still only a man.”

It’s Gavin’s turn for silence. What Ryan’s just confessed to him sounds a lot like love, if he stops to think about it, sounds a lot like vulnerability and weakness that the Mad King has never been known for. He lifts a hand, dragging the back of it down Ryan’s cheek softly, knuckles reveling in the scrape of the stubble there.

“I want him too,” he whispers, and looks up into Ryan’s eyes, watches as they widen in shock and darken slightly with hunger. “And I think… I think he wants us. Well,” Gavin amends. “You, but I won’t give him  _ you _ without  _ me _ .”

Suddenly Ryan is flipping them, pressing Gavin into the bed with a growl. “You are  _ sin _ ,” he practically snarls, and presses a biting kiss to Gavin’s lips. “If you want him, then you shall have him, little bird… but first, you will have  _ me _ .”

 

The next step is to approach Jon. Gavin does it calmly and quietly, waves Jon up as he always does when the man bows to him. Gavin ushers him into an alcove where they won’t be overheard, and presses a small piece of parchment into his hand. 

“If you agree,” he says quietly, “then follow the instructions here. If you don’t, then don’t come, and we will never speak of this again.”

It’s all the courage that Gavin has, and he practically darts away, leaving Jon staring in confusion after him. 

 

The night is long. Midnight is fast approaching, and Gavin fidgets in Ryan’s bed as the king works at his desk. They’re both waiting, waiting to see if Jon will come or if Jon will stay away, and there is an irrational part of Gavin that fears the man will be gone completely from the castle come morning. 

Gavin had outlined various things in the note - that Ryan was always the man in charge, that Gavin was no ruler in his kings’ beds. That Jon could fall somewhere in the middle, if he so chose, that Ryan would not give up his control, and the promise that if that were something Jon wanted, something Jon  _ craved _ , it could be open to him (always with Gavin present, of course). 

“Hang this,” Ryan said at a quarter of an hour until midnight, practically throwing his pen down. He turned in his chair, grasping a pillow from the nearby sofa and tossing it to the floor. “Gavin, to me.”

Something nervous settled in Gavin’s mind. He slipped from the bed and dropped to his knees, crawling his way across the room to his king to kneel on the pillow Ryan had dropped for him. The king’s fingers were already working at the laces of his breeches, and soon his cock was freed, to Gavin’s utter delight.

Gavin needed no instruction - he leaned forward and took his king in his mouth, felt Ryan’s hand settle on the back of his head, firm and strong, fingers lacing through the strands of his hair. There was no need to think, now, all he had to know to do was suck, and he was well-versed in it after a year and some months at the service of his kings. 

Ryan let him lead, for once, content with Gavin’s leisurely pace. Gavin kept expecting him to roll his hips and press Gavin’s head down, force him to take more and more, and he wondered, briefly, if Ryan had something else in mind for him later on.

His question was answered with a knock at the door. Gavin moved to jerk back, only to find that Ryan’s hand in his hair kept him exactly where he was. There was a dark chuckle above him, and Gavin flushed. If that were Jon, then Ryan would have Gavin firmly in his place when he entered. If that weren’t, well… it’s not as though Gavin’s place in his kings’ beds were a secret. 

“Enter,” Ryan called, and the door opened hesitantly. Jon stood there, and softly closed the door behind him before he really took in the sight before him. When he turned, Gavin saw that he was dressed not in the armor that he so often saw the man in, but instead in a soft tunic and a pair of breeches that hugged his form. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were dark with what Gavin could assume to be lust, especially when they landed on where Gavin kneeled before his king.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Ryan said, a low threat and a clear reminder that no matter who watched, Ryan would not hesitate to discipline him. Gavin’s eyes darted up to Ryan’s in a quick apology before he resumed his task, pulling off just enough to gently suck at the head of Ryan’s cock. He flushes a little bit at the fact that he’s doing this in front of one of the men that he commands, but he had known before suggesting this that he would shed any command or control that he had at the door to Ryan’s room. 

“Were the terms agreeable to you?” Ryan asks, and Gavin opens his eyes once more only to realize that Ryan’s focus isn’t even on him anymore. Ryan is instead gazing, openly hungry, at Jon.

“Yes,” Jon says, quiet. “All of it was… yes, I agree.”

“Then come here, Jon,” Ryan says, and holds out a hand to beckon the man forward. Jon comes, slowly, until he’s within reach of Ryan. Gavin pauses in his ministrations, and Ryan gives him a gentle pet to let him know that it’s alright to take a moment to sit back and watch, which Gavin does eagerly. 

“I won’t bow to you,” Jon says, just as quiet as he’d spoken before. 

“We are all just men here, Jon,” Ryan says. “Gavin likes to kneel for me. And there is a difference between bowing for a king and kneeling for a man.” Ryan’s voice goes low and dark as his hand finds Jon’s hair, curls in the strands. “Will you kneel for me, Jon? For a man, not a king?”

“Yes,” Jon murmurs, and sounds lost. 


End file.
